The One Where Harry Styles Sneezed On Me

Day Two

"Can I get you a cup of tea?" She'd wandered into his living area at a time that felt unbearably early, she was drowsy. It had made her jump a bit, his voice. She was surprised she felt tired. She may have woke up a bit early, but they had turned in really early too. There was only so much you could say to a total stranger who had inadvertently kidnapped you, and was also the subject of your daydreams at one point in your life. They'd had a bit of an awkward first night, maybe wordless was a better word.

She'd wanted to kick herself for agreeing to quarantine with him so easily. Especially when they sat across from each other at his kitchen table in fallow silence. She was hoping today they could both find their voices, or these 14 days were going to be miserable.

His voice was like a desert backroad, this morning, graveled and with ruts like a washboard. It wasn't helping her speak with ease. She'd heard his morning voice before, had screamed over it at 17, in secret because the fixation had fallen out fo fashion for her age. Elise had clearly forgotten how devastating it was.

"Um," great now her voice was funny too. It wasn't all deep and sexy though, it was an embarrassing high pitch, if he had a dog it was about to come running. She didn't think he had a dog. "I don't really like tea, no offense." She squealed. Her roommate had been visibly offended, but too polite to say it when she'd turned down her brew.

He burst into a laugh at that, "your face! It's not like you insulted my cooking or looks or something. It's ok to not like tea!"

"You sure about that, the girl I live with may beg to differ. When I shared the same sentiment with her she looked at me like I was wearing an American flag cape and was about to douse myself in ketchup and fire a gun in the living room." She had to ask, as he was very un English about this, in her limited experience.

"That's an image!" He ducked his chin, bit his lip to stop speaking.

"What?" She asked.

"Just the cape?" His cheeks warmed, but not like hers. They were flaming. "Anyway, I prefer coffee, actually."

"Oh!" She opened her mouth in faux shock. "I'm horrified! You are a bad Brit!" She laughed with him a little.

"The worst! Just ask my friends. I'm even losing my accent."

"Sounds pretty strong to me." She shrugged. "I pick up accents easy. Maybe you do too."

"I do, it will be interesting to hear what we both sound like once we can rejoin the world." He turned around then and started rummaging in the cupboards.

"Can I get the key to your flat? And do you want hot coffee or iced? Do you have to designate when coffee is hot? That's default right? I basically live on iced coffee, it keeps me going and such. Think it started when I was on my last tour, but you know, we never really slept on tours with the band either, like."

"Harry, Harry! Harry! Stop!" He was firing questions at a concerning pace. She thought he talked slow.

"What? Have you gone off coffee? I was hoping we'd keep that in common." That was interesting, but she didn't let it distract her.

"No, no, that's not it. Why do you need my house keys?" She was sure he had been rambling about semi important things, but really, she was a bit lost on that part.

"Oh, so I can leave them for my assistant to go get you the necessary articles for the next couple of weeks. She can drop them on the doorstep. That way we need not expose her and vice versa." He said it matter of factly.

Elise was momentarily distracted by the French press he was seeing to now. She could taste the strong bitter flavor already and she was already imagining how his forearm would flex while he applied firm steady pressure to the top.